


The End

by MissMcCarthy



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Depression, F/F, F/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:53:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26611750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMcCarthy/pseuds/MissMcCarthy
Summary: TW: (Unsuccessful) Suicide attemptWhen things get too dark and you decide to end it, you don't expect to wake up in a hospital room.(This is a choose your Avenger story - and look, this story is dark and I'm sorry!)
Relationships: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Bucky Barnes/Reader, Clint Barton/Reader, Natasha Romanov/Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader, clint barton x reader, hawkeye x reader, hawkeye/reader, natasha Romanoff/reader, natasha romanoff x reader, natasha romanov x reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 80





	1. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of this is beta'd, and I'm posting it as soon as I finish each chapter

You sat on your bed in the Tower, overlooking the bright lights that lit up the city at night. Even at 2am, the New York City streets were bustling, people heading home after a long day or slipping out early to start their day. Everyone going about their lives, no sign of what they were thinking or feeling.

From up here, they looked like little more than ants. Looking down at them as they went about their days, you found yourself feeling completely alone. And you hated yourself for that. You had a team that loved and cared for you, and you knew that if you’d just reach out to them they’d be there in a heartbeat. But you couldn't. They didn’t deserve to be saddled with your own problems, with your depression. They had enough on their plates, just trying to keep the world safe and alive. They didn’t need to be worried about you too.

You knew they were though. It wasn’t hard to notice that you hadn’t eaten a proper meal in weeks. Steve and Nat had taken to bringing you small snacks - granola bars, fruit, little things like that - and hanging out with you while you ate. The fact that they were having to give up some of the very little free time they had to take care of you was eating you alive, and you tried to make yourself eat. You really did, but it felt like such an impossible task sometimes. 

For the last month, you’d only been going through the motions. You trained in the mornings, and by afternoon you’d slipped back to your room, telling everyone you were reading. In truth, you found yourself just laying on your bed, as errant thoughts flew through your head. This battle against depression had been going on since you were a teenager, but this last month it had really kicked into overdrive. There was nothing you could think of that caused this shift, no one incident you could look at and go ‘There it is. That’s why I’m so depressed all of a sudden. It makes sense.’ Instead, the feeling slowly began to grow more and more every day.

The team did their best to keep you involved with everyone else. Nat and Wanda always invited you out with them, to go shopping or even just grab coffee. Bucky and Steve asked you to join them every night when they watched a new movie - they were still trying to catch up on everything they’d missed. Tony and Bruce invited you to come help them tinker in the lab, and Clint tried to rope you into helping him with his pranks. You’d originally agreed every time trying to make them happy, but as the month progressed you found yourself withdrawing more and more into yourself, and you began to turn down their invitations. 

The thoughts swirled through your head, and you bit back the tears. You’d made up your mind a few days ago, and tonight was going to be the night. You’d spent a long time contemplating the how before deciding on the classic approach of an overdose. For a while, you’d considered a simple step off the roof but that idea was squashed when you recalled Tony had suits programmed to catch anyone falling off the Tower. Granted, they were more intended to catch anyone clutzy enough to have fallen, but they’d also catch any suicide attempts. The idea of having to face the team after a suicide attempt wasn’t something you could stomach, so you’d decided on a method that would hopefully be quick and clean.

It was time. Time to stop being a burden. Time to stop fighting a war you weren’t even sure you wanted to win. Time to let go. Time to stop haunting the tower like a ghost. You looked down at the pills you’d carefully hidden over the last few days with a heavy sigh. If Jarvis saw you open a pill bottle and throw them back, he’d alert the team. Instead, you’d carefully hidden a bunch of pills in a little bag of candy, so all the cameras caught was you stuffing your face with a snack. 

The deed done, you leaned back against your pillows, eyes tracking the people below. As time passed, you began to feel it hit you. As you slid down your pillow, your gaze locked onto the sky above. When the darkness began to settle in, your senses dulled, but you could vaguely hear an alarm going off in the background. You didn’t care, not anymore, your eyes never leaving the stars above until they closed.

~~~~~

The first thing that caught your attention was the rhythmic beeping. You weren’t sure what you’d expected when you were dead, but the slow beeping wasn’t it. Slowly, your eye peaked open, and you squinted against the harsh light. Once you’d adjusted to it, you slowly opened them and as you looked up at the ceiling tiles above you, you immediately recognized where you were.

The soft beeping was a monitor in the Hospital Wing, and you clenched your eyes shut, tight. You’d failed, and now the team would suffer for it. Of course they’d care if you had died, but they’d have moved on eventually. Now there’d be questions, and you’d have to face them. You couldn’t even die right, and now they’d be forced to see you again, knowing what you’d done. How could you even face them?

The beeping of the monitor began to speed up as your heart began to race, a panic attack slipping over you. The racing of your mind left you struggling to breathe, your hands going clammy. A warm hand grabbed your hand, the thumb rubbing gentle circles into your skin. You could hear the murmur of their voice, soft and comforting, but you couldn’t tell what they were saying over your own ragged breathing. 

It took you a few minutes to calm yourself down and get your breathing under control. The soft voice was still speaking, and you swallowed heavily. You slowly cracked your eyes open and turned to them, unsure what they’d have to say to you.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plan is to have one chapter each for: Clint, Steve, Bucky, and Natasha. If there's anyone else you'd like, let me know in the comments. The only ones I don't feel comfortable writing are Vision, Wanda, and Bruce. I have absolutely nothing against them but I just have zero experience writing for them, and I'd rather not do it for the first time on such a sensitive topic.
> 
> ~~~~~
> 
> If you need someone to speak to, but don’t feel comfortable reaching out to friends and family try the suicide hotline.
> 
> USA - 800-273-8255


	2. Clint

Clint’s eyes locked onto yours the moment you faced him, and you could see he’d been crying. They were swollen and rimmed in red, it looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His thumb still traced circles over your skin and you slowly turned your hand over so your palm was up. He laced his fingers with yours, his grip tight. 

“Hey baby” his voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

You tried to speak, but nothing would come out, your throat dry and hoarse. Clint immediately grabbed the small cup of water on your nightstand and helped you take a sip, his hand lingering when it brushed against your skin. As he placed the cup back, you cleared your throat quietly.

“I’m sorry.” you finally spoke, voice rough.

“I know, I know.” his hand reached out, gently cupping your cheek and you allowed yourself to lean into his touch.

Silence settled over the room as you studied him. His face had grown scruffy since you’d last seen him, “How long?”

“You’ve been out four days” his answer was immediate. 

Guilt slammed through you at his response. He looked like he hadn’t slept for days because he likely hadn’t - any time you ended up in the hospital wing, he never left your side. He’d likely slept in the chair next to your bed if your previous stays in the infirmary were anything to go off of. He was paying for your mistakes, just as he always had, and tears began to stream down your face again.

Clint didn’t speak, one hand cupping your cheek still, the other intertwined with your own. His gentle patience as he allowed you to work through your thoughts only made you feel more guilty, and you found yourself wishing he’d yell at you, or at least say how disappointed he was in you.

“It’s okay to tell me I fucked up, Clint” your voice was a soft whimper.

“No. That’s - no.” he took a deep breath, glancing down at your joined hands before meeting your gaze again, “Just… why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?” 

He waited while you put your thoughts together, and you finally spoke again, “Because there’s no reason for it to be this bad. There’s no one thing, no one major thing that happened or that I can point to and explain it all. I’m just tired, I’m tired of fighting and trying and I couldn’t do it anymore. I can’t fight anymore.” You looked away, unable to meet his gaze any longer.

“Look at me” his voice was soft but firm, and you eventually forced yourself to meet his gaze again. “You don’t have to fight, not alone. If I’d have known it was this bad, that you were struggling like this I’d never -” he paused, collecting his thoughts. “Baby, I know fighting constantly is tiring but you can lean on me. When things get too hard, let me carry some of the burden. I’ll carry you until you’re better.”

“That’s the thing Clint. That’s not fair. I can’t ask you to --”

He cut you off, “You’re not asking me to do anything. I’m offering because I love you, because I never want to sit here and wonder if you’re going to wake up again.”

You didn’t respond, unable to trust yourself to be coherent. After a moment you slid your hand from his, and as his eyebrows pulled together in curiosity you scooted over to the far side of the bed. When you patted the now empty space beside you, Clint smiled at you softly and he climbed into the bed next to you. 

You lay on your sides, facing one another, his arms pulling you tight against his chest. His woody scent filled your lungs as you snuggled as close to him as possible. When silent sobs began to rack your body, he tucked you against him as he hummed your favorite song.

Laying there wrapped in Clint’s arms it wasn’t hard to believe him when he said he wasn’t going anywhere and that he wanted to help. Maybe it wasn’t fair to ask him to help you, but it definitely wasn’t fair to make him mourn your death. Having him by your side wasn’t going to magically cure your depression, but maybe he could be your anchor while you got the help you needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you need someone to speak to, but don’t feel comfortable reaching out to friends and family try the suicide hotline.
> 
> USA - 800-273-8255


	3. Steve

Your eyes locked with the ocean blue of Steve’s, and you found yourself bursting into tears again. He looked broken, and it killed you to know you’d done that to him. The scruff on his face only served to show you that he hadn’t left your side and you hated yourself for hurting him. 

When you didn’t calm down and your panic attack began to grow again, Steve got to his feet and gently sat you up, taking a seat directly behind you on the bed. His chest pressed against your back, his hands resting against your stomach. The steady beat of his heart and his slow breaths immediately began to help your system calm down. Throughout the years you’d had a few panic attacks and when you couldn’t get past them on your own he’d sat with you just like this.

When the panic attack had passed, Steve slowly moved to climb out from behind you to give you space, but your hands tightened over his. He stopped moving immediately, and his chin came to rest on your shoulder, holding you tight against him.

Eventually, his voice broke the silence, “I’d like to see your face, sweetheart. Please.”

You moved slowly, turning to sit facing him. You both pulled your legs in, sitting criss cross, knees pressed against one another. When you rested your hands on your lap, he reached out and grabbed them in his hands. Sitting face to face with him, it wasn’t hard to see the effects of your choice on him. You thought you’d been sparing him when you made the decision to end your life, but looking at him now you couldn’t see how you’d ever believed that. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” 

“I don’t know. I just…. I can’t - couldn’t - do it anymore.” if it wasn’t for his super soldier hearing, he likely wouldn’t have been able to hear your quiet voice.

“Couldn’t do what anymore?”

“This.” When he began to pull his hands back from you slowly you shook your head quickly, tightening your grip on him, “No! Not us-this. Life-this. I just… I’m tired of living. I’m tired of fighting my depression.”

“Then stop.”

Your eyebrows drew together in confusion at his simple answer, “What?”

“Stop fighting it by yourself.”

“It’s my problem though, Steve. I can’t just burden you guys with my own demons. You’ve got enough problems and demons of your own.”

“You’d rather ‘burden’ us with your suicide?” his voice was soft and held no judgement, but you still flinched at the harsh word. “I’d rather stay up with you all night than sit here, praying to see your eyes again. I’d rather stay with you in bed all day talking than give your eulogy. I’d rather hold you than hold your funeral.”

The tears started flowing again and Steve pulled you into his lap. He wrapped his arms tight around you, and your arms wound around him in return, clutching him close. His familiar scent enveloped you as you pressed yourself as tight as you could against him. The steady beat of his heart was a gentle reminder to you that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he was going to be with you until the end of the line.

“I’m sorry…” 

“I know, sweetheart. I know. We’ll get through this, I promise.” he pressed his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss and the two of you didn’t feel the need to speak again. Steve being by your side wouldn’t magically fix you, he couldn’t magically defeat the demons you fought, but maybe he could be your home base. Somewhere safe to retreat to when the battle feels impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you need someone to speak to, but don’t feel comfortable reaching out to friends and family try the suicide hotline.
> 
> USA - 800-273-8255


	4. Bucky

When you met Bucky’s gaze, he immediately reached up to cup your cheek with his metal hand. The cool vibranium felt good against your hand, grounding you to the moment even as you began to spiral with the knowledge of what you’d done. You weren’t entirely sure you regretted trying to kill yourself, but looking at him now you weren’t sure how you’d ever believed it would be kinder to him to just kill yourself. 

“Please don’t leave me, Doll” his voice broke as he spoke. 

“I’m so sorry, Bucky” tears began to leak out of your eyes. He looked broken, and it killed you inside to know you’d done this to him. The last time you’d seen him look this rough was after a mission went sideways and Steve was taken hostage by Hydra. You could see it in his eyes that he was blaming himself for your decision, the same way he’d blamed himself for Steve’s situation back then and it felt like a knife was finding a home between your ribs.

You scooted over in the bed without a word, your hand never leaving his. Once you were seated on the far side of the bed, you gave his hand a gentle tug. When he climbed into the hospital bed, you curled up next to him like you had so many times before. He lay on his back, and you lay on your side, your head resting over his heart. His arm tightened around you, pulling you flush against him and you relished in the comfort it brought. 

“What happened” you swallowed the lump that seemed to form in your throat, “What happened after I…?”

Bucky looked down at you as you looked up, his eyes studying your face. For a long moment he didn’t speak as he memorized every eyelash and mark on your face. 

“When the alarm went off, Jarvis told us that your vital signs were dropping fast. When I got there, you were just laying there. We didn’t know what was going on - not until Nat found one of your pills and we figured it out. I carried you down to the hospital wing, and they had to pump your stomach. You’ve been out of it for four days now, doll.” He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before he continued, “I thought you were dead when I first came into your room. You were just laying there and you weren’t moving and I thought I lost you…” 

“I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have done that to you.” you pressed a soft kiss to his chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on in there?” his voice was unsure.

“You have so many demons of your own, Buck. I didn’t want you to worry about mine too.” 

“We’re partners, aren’t we?” 

“Of course we are” 

“Then trust me. How many times have you backed me up when I thought I couldn’t beat mine? You’re always there with a smile, hug, and a hot chocolate. Let me do the same for you, Doll. I may not be able to beat your demons but I want to help you fight when you do go toe-to-toe.”

You didn’t answer right away, thinking over what he’d said. You couldn’t help but realize he was right. You always told Bucky he wasn’t fighting his monsters alone, and you know he’d told you it once or twice before when things were starting to get bad for you. Apparently you were a hypocrite though, and that wasn’t something you like to admit. If Bucky had kept his monsters from you and tried to fight them on his own, you’d have fought him tooth and nail. So why did you set a double standard for yourself? 

Needing help is human. Relying on those you love and trust? Is human. It may be hard to admit you’re not as strong as you think you are - or should be - but you are only human. Maybe it was time to admit you were fallible, that you needed someone to have your back. You knew it was going to be hard to adjust to telling him when you needed his support, but you had to learn. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Doll. Please, don’t ever leave me…” 

“I won’t Bucky, I’m not going to leave. I think I need your help though.”

“Anything for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you need someone to speak to, but don’t feel comfortable reaching out to friends and family try the suicide hotline.
> 
> USA - 800-273-8255


	5. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorogaya = Dear  
> Krasotka = Gorgeous

Nat’s green eyes were piercing as she studied you, and you couldn’t help but look away. For a long moment, her eyes searched your face and you studied the ceiling tiles above your face. The squeak of her chair was the only warning you got before Nat was pulling you into her arms and tight to her chest. You didn’t react at first but when her grip tightened around you, your arms slid around her slowly, body stiff.

“You scared the hell out of me, Dorogaya” you could hear the relief in her voice and you felt yourself slowly softening up in her grip.

Her hand began to slowly stroke your hair, and in her arms you felt safe. It didn’t take long at all before you were full on sobbing into her chest. She hummed a Russian children’s song softly to you while you cried, and she just waited for you to finish, not rushing you, giving you all the time you needed to let it all out.

When you finally got a hold of yourself, she moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to you. She smiled softly at you, and brushed your hair back out of your face. She reached up to cup your face in both hands, forcing you to look at her. 

“We’ll get through this together.” you could hear the determination in her voice, loud and clear, “you’re not alone. I’m sorry you didn’t see that before, but there’s no way I’m going to let you forget that again.”

You nodded slowly, “I’m sorry, Nat.”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me. You’re still here, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day. You’re still here.” Your hand found its way to hers, and your fingers interlocked as you brought her hand down your lap.

“But I tried to kill myself, Nat. I tried to leave.” you explained again, wondering if maybe she just didn’t understand the situation. 

“I know you did. And I’m so glad you failed, I don’t know how I’d live without you. But the way I see it is, we can get wrapped up in what almost happened. Or we can figure out how to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

Nat was your rock, and you’d forgotten that for a bit. Well, maybe rock wasn’t the right word. Sure, she was strong and dependable, but she was also soft and sweet. You were too busy studying her green eyes and trying to figure out what the right word to describe her was to realize she was talking to you. It wasn’t until she started to ask you a question that you tuned back in.

“... What do you think, Krasotka?” 

You glanced down at your hands, “I’m sorry… I wasn’t listening.” 

She squeezed your hand, her voice patient, “I was saying, I think you and I should take a vacation together, somewhere quiet just the two of us. We can stay as long as you need, and you can see a therapist - or we can see a therapist if you want me to come with you. You’re not in this alone, I’m with you.” 

You admired her sheer determination, and you loved her for it. She’d never met a problem she couldn’t - wouldn’t - face head on, and apparently she wasn’t running from this either. You couldn’t help but debate the fairness of it though, she’d suffered a lot in her life. She didn’t need to be tied down to someone who tried to overdose on pills at 2am on a Tuesday. She didn’t need to be saddled with your baggage, to constantly worry if you’d relapse and this time succeed. She deserved better, she deserved to be free.

“Nat, I’m broken. You… you don’t have to come with me. It’s okay if you want to go, you don’t have to stay.” it hurt to say it, but the idea of her staying and getting hurt was enough to leave a sharp pain in your chest.

She frowned lightly, “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. If you want me to leave, you’re going to have to kill me. Your fight is my fight, and I’m not abandoning our battle.”

“Nat -” you started to argue, determined to make her see that leaving you was the best choice for her, but when she leaned in and pressed her lips to yours in a gentle kiss you couldn’t find it in you to argue with her. 

As you hammered out plans with her to go on an extended vacation somewhere far away, you couldn’t help but think about the decision you’d made to end it all. At the time, it had seemed like your only option to get the pain to stop, but here with Natasha by your side? You found yourself believing that maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel - you just had to make it there. 

That night, she lay in the hospital bed next to you, her arm wrapped securely around your waist and you relaxed against her. With her as the big spoon, you let yourself drift off into sleep, imagining a day where these monsters and demons no longer plagued your mind on a daily basis. For once, it seemed possible, and as that hope settled into you, you couldn’t help but thank your lucky stars that you had someone willing to fight with you until the bitter end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story!! If there's another character you want to see, let me know and I'll see what I can do! You can also request two characters together if that's what you want (ie Bucky/Steve, Clint/Nat, etc). The only ones I won't do on this story are Vision, Wanda, and Bruce and that's mostly because I've never written them before and I don't want to start them on such a sensitive topic.   
> ~~~~~
> 
> If you need someone to speak to, but don’t feel comfortable reaching out to friends and family try the suicide hotline.
> 
> USA - 800-273-8255


End file.
